


The night is still young

by Ms_Julius



Series: Tumblr Prompts (SINF) [4]
Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: Machiavelli ends up escorting Dee back to his hotel.All the way to the elevator.





	The night is still young

The lounge of Dee’s choice of a hotel was mostly empty by the time they stepped through the doors onto the marble floor. There were few residents sitting on a leather couches at the other end of the room, and in the dim lighting Machiavelli was able to see a couple leaning against the wall near the other exit.

All in all a rather quiet and classy place to stay. He hadn’t expected anything less from the doctor, especially since it had been told to him that Dee had actually tried to purchase this particular resort prior to his arrival, although backing out on the last minute. Machiavelli allowed himself a slight grin. It was obvious that the Englishman was a perfectionist as well as in desperate need of being in control, and the attempt to buy the very hotel he’d planned on staying further supported his opinion. The man should learn to let loose, in a sense. And even if their line of work asked a some degree of stubborness and driven mind, it was impossible for anyone to be in total control all of the time. For goodness sake, Dee wouldn’t let anyone make decisions for him, not even as minor as to where to eat dinner.

They’d had a loud disagreement about the matter earlier today, Machiavelli trying to explain that since he knew the city better, Dee should let him choose their restaurant for the night. Dee had countered by claiming he was more than capable of finding them a place to eat since he had spent enough time in Paris as it was, and eventually Machiavelli had given in and followed the other man into a small bistro near the Eiffel tower. He had not been in a mood for a prolonged argument, not when he had been looking forward for this rare day off he had fought so fiercely for. And as much as he refused to admit it out loud, the main reason for this anticipation had been because of the doctor. Anything could happen when the man was around, and over the years Machiavelli had grown fairly intrigued by the English magician.

“I’m done checking in.” The low voice spoke out so suddenly that Machiavelli jumped. Dee was now standing next to him, apparently ready to head up to his room at the top floor. During their surprisingly relaxed and easygoing conversation at the restaurant, Machiavelli had come to know that the doctor would be staying in the master suite in the floor 41. Expensive, no doubt, but Machiavelli had a feeling that this display of funds was a part of Dee’s constant state of presentation. The Englishman wanted to be seen as a rich man, and if that meant he would pay the meal for both of them, Machiavelli was not going to resist.

“I can see that,” he finally answered, letting his eyes trail to the main counter where a young man is organizing a pile of papers. “Fast in your moves as always, doctor. How did you dealt with the staff so quickly?”

Dee merely huffed, glancing at his wristwatch as he took his suitcase in the other hand. “They know me here by now. I’m not required to fill in forms every time I walk through the front door.”

“Hmm, is that so? I can’t help but think that you might have slipped something to that boy behind the desk just so you’d get through easier.”

The fine arching of Dee’s brows would have gone unnoticed if one wasn’t paying close enough attention, but Machiavelli didn’t miss the slight tensing on Dee’s back, nor the way the shorter man tightened his grip on the handle of the luggage. “Did 100 € cut it, doctor?”

The frown rising on Dee’s face was aimed straight at him. “None of your business.”

Catching a glimpse at his watch again, Dee turned around and started to make his way to the elevators on the opposite side of the hall. “If this was all, I’m afraid I shall take my leave now. I’ve had a rather taxing day, and would want to rest while I can.” He was fidgeting with his key card, checking the numbers on it.

Without hesitation, Machiavelli moved as well, starting to walk close behind the Englishman. His long legs carried him swiftly on Dee’s heels, his tall frame leaning to the wall next to the lift as Dee pressed the button to summon it down. His eyes glancing up suspiciously, Dee twisted slightly in order to lock his eyes with Machiavelli.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Machiavelli smirked, tapping the metal case of the elevator buttons. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you are about to follow me into my floor,” Dee said, frowning. “Why, I wonder?”

The Italian shrugged and watched as the doors to the lift opened with a clink. They stepped inside, the doctor pressing the flickering floor number and sending the elevator upwards. Meanwhile Machiavelli had taken a stance just behind Dee, slowly setting his warm hands on top of the shorter man’s shoulders and squeezing lightly. There was a slight tremor beneath his fingers, summoning a smile on his face. With a calculated care, he leaned in, bringing his mouth close to Dee’s left ear.

“Such a smart man like you, John, should have no problem figuring it out.”

Dee stiffed, the muscles in his back and neck drawing tight as he tried to step away from the taller man pressed against him. Not one to be ignored, Machiavelli followed closely and remained behind Dee, avoiding the empty space now forming between them and the closing doors of the lift. Shyly, he let his right arm snake around Dee’s body, his hand eventually resting on the front of the fancy yet awfully prude suit jacket. The textile was thick enough to keep out a chilly evening breeze, but as Machiavelli peeled away the outer layer of it, revealing the thinner fabric below it, he found out that the good doctor most definitely could feel his wandering fingers around his chest.

A silent gasp broke the silence that had fallen once the doors had slipped shut.

“I hate to ask, but do you have any idea what you’re doing at the moment, Machiavelli?” Dee’s usually calm and collected voice was shaking now, and he lifted one pale hand to grab a hold of Machiavelli’s shifting fingers. “Do you mind?”

Unable to contain his amusement, Machiavelli let out a chuckle, halting his hand and pulling back, leaving Dee standing a few feet away. “The evening is still young, and I’ve certainly enjoyed our little get-together thus far.“ He bowed, mainly out of habit but a part of him wanted to hide his knowing smirk from the doctor. “Forgive me for misreading the situation.”

The blush creeping on Dee’s cheeks darkened, and he took one more step closer to the elevator doors. They were in the 38. floor according to the small screen next to the button panel, and Machiavelli could see the way Dee’s nervous tick forced him to tap the grip of the suitcase as the number climbed higher.

He didn’t say anything, merely watched as the Englishman’s chest puffed out with a relieved sigh when the metal doors eventually shifted open, offering them a clear view of the narrow hallway leading up to the main suite at the end of it. Dee’s feet were outside in a second he was able to squeeze his body through the doorway, his grey eyes looking back at him with a baffled glimmer.

“I don’t know what you were hoping to gain from this, Niccolò, but rest assured, I am not going to let this slide.” He was trying to maintain the levelness in his voice, masking the way his heart was still ramming in his chest. Machiavelli could see this, but he decided to let it be for now. Teasing Dee had always been one of his personal entertainments, and seeing him this uncomposed for the first time was alluring to say the least.

Raising his hand to press the button to bring him back downstair, Machiavelli threw a final look at the doctor still standing in the hall, his grin now apparent to the flushed man. “I should hope not. After all, you have only been in my city for a few days.” The smirk on his lips widened as the doors began to draw shut. “Good night John. Sleep well.”

And with that, the Italian disappeared from Dee’s view, leaving him alone in the silent corridor. After a moment of staring blankly at the elevator, he shook his head and let out a silent whine.

That man was going to be a death of him.


End file.
